Fire In The Snow
by tprillahfiction
Summary: Jim and Spock are stranded in a shelter, cuddling for warmth on a snowy planet. Originally written for a prompt for K/S Advent 2012. FLUFF. Schmoop. Written in Spock's POV. Spock/Kirk


****Title: Fire In The Snow

Fandom: ST TOS

Pairing: Spock/Kirk

Rating: PG

Acknowledgements: thanks to petparent82 for early beta work. Thanks to spock2U for the late, last minute beta work!

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me

**FIRE IN THE SNOW**

Your breath ghosts along my jawline, to the shell of my ear and pleasure buzzes in my body, electric, from your simple touch. My arms are circled around your waist as yours are, around mine. I squeeze tightly, pulling you closer to me-or at least I try to. I am desperate. My grip on you must be uncomfortable, painful even, but you do not cry out. I am like a ke-anthe'e that roots out food from underground, searching. I am searching for bare, warm skin. Any scrap of flesh I can find, hidden under this cold weather gear. I pull off my mittens to find my prize and it is glorious. My nose nuzzles your neck, under your chin. Your wooly hat dislodges and drops from your head. My hands press to your smooth, bare back. Warm. My fingertips slide under your thermal trousers and find your bare hip. Yes!

In this shelter, in this blizzard that traps us, on Kelus IV, the snow planet, we are huddled underneath a sleeping bag. What was meant to be a three day shore leave, merely a captain/first officer friendly excursion-my introduction to snow fishing-has turned into something else entirely. I should have known there would have been a blizzard, I should have been monitoring, but I did not and we went anyway. Ah, my Captain, my reckless one. And I shall follow, always.

There is no need to worry, my Jim. We are protected. We have food. Clothing. This sleeping bag. The shelter. A weather radio. Our communication's device. Each other. We cannot be beamed from here but we cannot go out and brave the elements either. We must simply wait for rescue. I do not mind waiting. Not as long as I have you.

"Spooock," you mutter my name as a litany. "You're shivering. So fucking bad. God. I'm so sorry, Spock. Bones is gonna have my head on a platter. He warned me you were sensitive to cold. I was selfish. Wanted you to come with me just so we could spend shore leave together. I wanted it to be you, Spock. So very much wanted it to be you. This is a disaster. God, I'm so sorry. So sorry."

Shhhh, my Jim, I speak to you soft in your ear. I am not shivering because I am cold. Not now. Not anymore. Quite the contrary, I whisper. Feel me. Feel how aroused I am. Feel how much I want you. This is no disaster. For had it not been so cold we would never have ended up like this, with us together. I might never have discovered your attraction to me and mine to you were it not for this ice. Never would I have had a chance to skim your thoughts, your body, your flesh like this. Might never have had the honor of being in your arms, like this. Just like this. "Do you feel my desire, Jim?" I ask.

"Your desire?'' you whisper with obvious delight. Your breath hitches. ''Oh, Spock. God, I can feel you. But, you're shivering-"

"For you...my _T'hy'la_, for you."

"Are you sure you're not just cold?"

"Never in your arms, my beloved. Feel me."

You pull your hand from your thermal glove and press your fingers to the crotch of my snow trousers. "Oh God..." you breathe.

"Yes, Beloved. For you."

I hear your thought, 'I love it when you call me that.'

"I am not moving too fast for you, Jim?"

"No, Spock. Never." You pull your hand away, replacing it back inside your glove. I mourn its loss. You slide your arms around me again. "God, Spock. Hold me tighter. Hold me so tight. Just like this. We'll wait. Wait to be rescued. They'll be here soon. I promise."

"Jim," I say. "If we are never rescued, I will not mind. I would remain here in your arms, forever."

You chuckle, breathily. 'You are so romantic. So passionate.' "We're like a firestorm, hidden in the snow."

I smile and hold up two fingers. My thermal mittens lay next to me, forgotten. "Kiss me." You pull your own hand out of your glove once again. I will show you how we do everything.

* * *

fin


End file.
